


I've Got You

by eldritchMortician



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Daddy Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Past Torture, Penis In Vagina Sex, Scars, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 09:32:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17701832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritchMortician/pseuds/eldritchMortician
Summary: Being a Hunter means danger. It means pain. It means trauma and scars.When John's partner wakes up from a nightmare about a past hunt, he comforts her... Then one thing leads to another.Porn with a little plot. Mostly an excuse to write torture and smut. :)





	I've Got You

They’d had several good nights in a row, so they were due a bad one. It seemed being tortured to near death tended to leave effects even after the wounds were healed to fading scars. 

_She didn’t know how long she’d been there. Hours? Days? There was no way to gauge time, no way to know when she passed out if it was for seconds or hours. Her legs had weakened some time ago, and she hung by her wrists, limp. She barely had the strength to raise her head anymore. Her throat was raw from screaming. Every time she thought she’d lost the ability to make a sound, they did something new and different that wrenched a cry from her._

_They only stopped to ask the same question. She wasn’t sure how many times they’d asked. As the black-eyed demon lifted her head up by the hair, she didn’t even really hear him. Where was John, where was the Key? Every time they promised mercy. If she told them, they would cut an artery. Her mouth was full of blood. She didn’t know why. She’d lost track of what had been done to her. She spit it in his face. They started hurting her again._

The nightmares that made her afraid to fall asleep were less frequent when they shared a bed. It was John who’d suggested it, in fact. After that one awful night in Memphis, when she’d been so distressed and hysterical he’d gotten into the bed with her in the hotel room they were sharing. He’d held her tight, stroking her hair, rocking her, soothing her back to sleep. He’d spent so long holding her that he fell asleep beside her as well, nestled warm and familiar against her back.

_She didn’t hold out much hope of being rescued. There were too many demons, too much to risk. John had the Key, they wanted it. It was reason enough to take it and run fast and far. She had to hold out as long as she could. Then, she would give them a plausible lie and pray they were telling the truth when they said they would kill her._

John had nightmares as well. With all he’d seen and done, she had little doubt his sleep was rarely undisturbed. But since she’d almost died, he’d woken in the night more than once desperate to find her. Convinced he was too late to save her. It only made sense to share a bed. It was reassuring. If she woke he could soothe her back to sleep. If he did, she would be there and safe and in touching distance. 

_It took long moments to realize they’d stopped. Pain filled her whole world, screaming the only language she remembered. There was shouting, but she couldn’t lift her head. A gunshot somewhere nearby. Another, and another. Then a voice in her ear._

_“Liv? Baby? I’m here, I’ve got you…”_

Of course, it was driving her slowly mad.

Every night she chose modest pajamas, or a tee shirt and shorts. Every night she said goodnight to him, and settled onto the pillows, listening to his breath go slow and deep, breathing his scent like hardwood and musk, and feeling his warmth next to her. Every night she kept herself from wrapping herself around him. She nestled close as she dared and imagined his arms around her.

_“Liv, come on. Look at me, sweetheart. Open your eyes for me. You’ve got to hold on.”_

_He lifted her and everything was agony. She forced her eyes open. He was a mess, spattered with blood. She didn’t know if it was hers, his, or the demons’. His dark eyes were fixed on her, worried, frightened._

_“John?” she managed._

_“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. It’s going to be okay.”_

From everything she’d read, the nightmares would probably decrease over time. It would be better if she were to get therapy, of course, but it was difficult to manage. They were still hunting, never in the same place very long. And what could she say to a psychiatrist that wouldn’t sound like a delusion? 

So she slept beside John, and hoped that she would get better someday.

_“Hang in there, Liv. You’re brave. You’re so brave, and so strong. You’re going to be fine.”_

_She was bleeding on the front seat of his car. Distantly, she wanted to apologize. He loved his car. He wouldn’t let anyone eat in the car, even her. Now she was getting blood all over everything, and she felt bad about it._

_“I didn’t tell them,” she said softly. “About the Key.”_

_He braced her with one hand as he took a turn at what had to be an unsafe speed. He glanced down at her, brow knit. “That’s not important right now, sweetheart. Don’t try to talk.”_

The nightmares were almost always basically the same. The room, the shackles. The table of things they were going to use to hurt her. The panic at being there again, at knowing what was coming. Sometimes John was there as well. Those were the worst ones. Knowing they would hurt her was bad. Knowing they would hurt him was intolerable. 

_“Stay with me, baby girl. Don’t you dare give up.”_

_There would be far too many questions at a hospital. Possibly even accusations leveled at John. The state she was in was no accident, and there was no other way to interpret it. She’d been tortured, and there would be police involvement. Fortunately, hunters had their own resources._

_He kicked open the back door at an emergency vet’s office, carrying her in, shouting for help. They had the Hunter’s signs in the window; they were used to late night emergencies._

_John laid her on a gurney, taking her hand in his. “You hear me, Livvy? You are stronger than this. You gotta stay with me.”_

John was a light sleeper. He was always awake before she was if something happened. He was always up and dressed and making coffee in the morning before she even stirred. So when she started growing restless, or whimpering in her sleep, it always woke him up.

In the dream, she fought. Tried to wrench her arms from the shackles. Tried to kick, and scream and do all she could to escape. It was always futile, and the knowledge that she was trapped only further fueled her panic. Still she fought. If she fought enough they’d concentrate on her, and not John.

_“Holy mother of fuck, what happened to her?” the veterinarian growled, cutting away the remnants of her clothes. She wanted to hide herself from John. Not like this--she didn’t want him to see her naked like this._

_“Demons. Wanted info. Is she going to be all right?” She could hear the strain in John’s voice. His temper was simmering near the surface._

_“50-50,” the woman replied in a clipped tone. “Dropping by the minute. There’s more blood on the kid’s clothes than in her. Is that fucking surgery suite prepped?”_

_“Yes, Doc!” called a voice from the hall._

_“Get her in. You go sit the fuck down.”_

_Olivia grabbed John’s hand, her grip weak. “I love you,” she whispered. She felt herself fading. It seemed suddenly very important to let him know._

_He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her bloody knuckles. “Love you too, sweetheart. Be strong. You’re going to be fine, I promise.”_

He always turned the light on when he woke her up. So she could see she was in a hotel room, not a warehouse torture chamber. So she could see that she was in bed, and safe, and he was there beside her. 

Sometimes it took her a moment to even recognize him. Panic and sleep conspired to skew her perceptions, making her disoriented. Showing her chains and demons instead of beds and her hunting partner. Those nights particularly made it difficult to calm down, but it was better with him there. With his voice in her ear and his arms around her.

_“There’s my girl!” John was there when she opened her eyes. He looked tired, haggard. Unshaven, his hair a mess. But he smiled, and she smiled back._

_Everything hurt, but the pain was dull and distant. She felt weak and exhausted, but she was glad to see him._

_“Welcome back, sweetheart,” he said softly. He brushed her hair back from her face. “I told you you were tough.”_

_“Glad to be back,” she whispered. Her throat felt too raw to do more._

_He smiled and kissed her forehead, stubble scratching her skin. “That’s my little badass.”_

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe. Just breathe.”

He held her from behind, her back against his chest, his voice in her ear. He held her hands tightly, trapped against her chest. Sometimes in her panic she had clawed at him. Occasionally she attacked her own skin with her nails, trying to tear off restraints and weapons that weren’t there. He rocked gently with her, his chin tucked over her shoulder.

“In and out. That’s your job right now, just breathe. In and out real slow. That’s a good girl.” 

She fought to do as he instructed, sucking in slow, deep breaths, letting them out. Trying to let the last of the nightmare let go, waiting for her pulse to slow back to normal. Little by little she relaxed, her head tipping back to rest on his shoulder, her straining hands going slack. Her cheeks were wet and her throat was dry.

He let go of her hands, wrapping his arms around her pulling her into his lap like a child. She curled against him, eager to accept his comfort. 

“There we go. You back with me, Liv?”

She nodded and looked up at him. She’d always found him handsome. From the moment she’d met him she’d been attracted to him, over even his two sons who were both delicious and much closer to her age. It had been John, though, who’d killed the vampire that had nearly had her. It was John who gave her his hand to help her up and asked if she was all right. 

The years since their first meeting hadn’t diminished his looks. If anything, he was more attractive now. His closely trimmed beard streaked with gray, his dark eyes more world-weary but also kind and aflame with intelligence.

Perhaps it was the nightmare. Perhaps it was something in the air, or the phase of the moon. Perhaps it was just that she’d wanted him for so long she couldn’t wait anymore.

She put a hand to his cheek, sliding along his jaw, feeling the salt-and-pepper stubble of his beard on her palm. She circled her fingers around the nape of his neck, drew him down, and kissed his lips.

He went very still. She was afraid he would pull away. Afraid he would push her off, but he didn’t. For a moment, she thought he even returned the kiss.

He took a slow breath as she backed away, and put his hand over hers, still on his cheek. 

“Livvy, that’s…” he began, and sighed. “I don’t think you mean--”

“I do,” she said softly and firmly. 

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. He took her hand away from his cheek, but held it. “Sweetheart, I’m old enough to be your father. Hell, I _am_ a father. My kids are older than you.”

“So?” she asked. “I’m well past legal.” She smiled crookedly. “I can drink, rent hotel rooms and cars… I’m not even barely legal, I’m pretty firmly an adult.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into her palm. “You’re also distraught, suffering from PTSD, and just woke up from a nightmare.”

She shifted. He still had her on his lap, so it was an easy thing to get closer, to press against him. She held his eyes with her own. “Are you afraid I’m going to regret it in the morning?”

Olivia heard his breath catch as she moved against him. “Something like that,” he said softly. His arm slid around her waist, and his hand tightened on hers.

“The only thing I’ve regretted every morning is not having kissed you yet.”

He stared down at her a long moment, his tongue darting out to glide across his lips. He still held her hand captive in his, still held her pressed against him. She could feel his heartbeat mingling with hers.

He released her hand, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her close. She tipped her head up to meet his kiss, slow and deep. He pulled back, cupping her cheek. His thumb feathered over her skin, tracing her lips. His dark eyes were warm, with just a hint of something more dangerous in them.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered.

“You. From the minute I first saw you. It’s always been you.” She leaned into his palm, sliding her hands along his back.

His lips crashed on hers. The kiss this time was not gentle, but nearly desperate, all tongue and teeth and need. He was much larger, much stronger than she was. It was little effort for him to shift her to the bed, her back against the pillows, his taut body pressing down on top of her.

She kissed back eagerly, matching his aggression with her own. With him on top of her she could feel him, already half hard, pressing her through his shorts and her pajama pants. She pulled at his shirt and he paused, sitting back on his knees, straddling her thighs.

He stripped his shirt off and she bit her lip. His body was toned, of course. He was the sort of muscular born of strenuous work and hardship. Dark hair dusted his chest, trailing down his hard stomach and vanishing under the waistband of his shorts. She’d seen him without a shirt before, but this time she let herself really look. Her eyes lingered on the tattoos on his chest, his shoulders. She couldn’t help herself, reaching up to stroke her fingertips lightly down his abdomen, tracing the lines of muscles and tendons. She paused where the sharp line of his hips met the top of his shorts.

He caught her questing hand, grinning. “Doesn’t seem fair I’m the only one topless.”

Olivia blushed, but hesitated. She had healed for the most part, but there were still scars. Ugly, pink, jagged scars that marred her skin in a dozen places. “Do you… do you want to turn off the lights?” she asked softly.

For a moment he looked confused, then realization dawned. He reached down, stroking her cheek. “No, I don’t. I want to see how beautiful you are.”

“But the scars,” she began.

He pulled her gently to sit up, and kissed her. “I was there when you got them, Livvy. They’re proof that you’re stronger than what tried to kill you. There’s nothing more beautiful to me than that.”

He slipped her shirt over her head, tossing it aside, and watched her as she let herself sink back to the bed. He sucked in a breath, licking his lips. He slid his hands up her stomach, cupping her breasts gently, his thumbs feathering over the already-hard nubs of her nipples.

She moaned, arching into his hands. The touch was electric, sending shockwaves of arousal through her. How many times had she imagined this moment? The reality was almost too intense.

He chuckled at her moan. “Want me to slow down, sweetheart?”

“No!” she gasped. “Please…”

John grinned wickedly as he continued to tease her nipples, at first gently, then rolling them between his fingers. She gasped as he pinched down, not very hard, but the sensation was as startling as it was erotic. She groaned, her hips bucking all on their own. She clawed at the bedsheets, trying to keep herself from grabbing him.

She whined when he took his hands away, though their path as he slid them down her sides blossomed with pleasure. It felt as though every nerve in her was hyperaware and filled with need. 

His fingers hooked in the top of her pajama pants, and he tugged at the soft fabric, watching her face as he pulled. Her heart pounded as she lifted her hips, letting him take the garment off her.

It felt strange to be exposed. Hunting together, even sharing hotel rooms, sharing beds, they’d both been careful. They both changed in bathrooms or behind closet doors. Avoided letting each other see anything inappropriate. Oh, she had fantasized. She’d considered ‘accidentally’ walking in on him, or letting the door stay open. She’d never gotten up the courage, though.

Part of her wanted to shrink away from his gaze and hide. The impulse was only momentary, however. She forgot it entirely as he stroked a hand along her revealed flesh, his fingertips wandering slowly and teasingly between her legs. She sucked in a breath as he stroked along the soft skin of her inner thighs, tantalizingly close to where her arousal pooled, hot and wet.

She made herself take his hand. He stopped, looking up at her.

“Doesn’t seem quite fair now,” she said, her voice breathy. She leaned up, gently sliding her palm over his shorts, her lips nearly touching his. She could feel him, hard and ready and so thick in her hand. She ached to have him inside her. “Your turn,” she purred.

He kissed her, nipping her lips. “Fair’s fair, I guess.” 

He pulled off the shorts, freeing his erection. The growing heat between her legs intensified, the need almost painful. She shifted, trapping his legs between her thighs, her hips raising toward him. She reached up, hooking her nails gently in his shoulders as he moved over her.

John’s eyes were warm as he lowered himself to his elbows over her, his length trapped between them. She could feel him hard and hot against her skin, and she wanted to wrap her whole body around him. 

He leaned down, his lips teasing her collarbone, gliding up her throat. The sensation was almost maddeningly intense, his beard scratching her skin, his lips soft and so warm. She drew her nails up his back lightly as he kissed along her neck, and took her earlobe gently in his teeth.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered, breath hot in her ear.

“With my life,” she answered. There was no hesitation, no debate. She trusted him completely. She was never more certain of anything.

He laid one more kiss on her neck, and sat back on his knees with a wicked grin. He took her wrists, lifting her hands above her head and pressing them into the pillows. “Think you can stay still for Daddy?” he purred. 

His voice nearly made her break his request then and there. She wanted to writhe against him, she wanted to beg to feel him inside her. She managed, somehow, to stay in position. “I--I can try,” she panted. It was the best she could promise.

“All I ever ask is that you do your best, baby.” He stroked a fingertip down her nose playfully. 

She tried to stay still as best she could as he moved over her, lowering his head to her chest, laying teasing kisses and nips along her skin. She could feel the heat of his body just above her, and she wanted to arch into him and feel skin on skin. But he held himself back, just a little. 

He rained kisses down across her breasts, lightly, and finally lingered over her nipples, his hot tongue sliding over the sensitive skin there. She gasped as he closed his lips over the pebbled flesh, sucking gently, tongue flickering over the hardened nubs. He caught her between his teeth, pressing down lightly until she moaned.

Olivia began to have serious doubts about her ability to stay still for very long. Despite that, she kept her arms above her head where he’d put them, even when he moved on, kissing down her stomach. Every touch sent a mounting thrill through her, and she could feel herself fairly dripping with arousal.

He was unhurried, nibbling down her belly and hips, laying kisses and little flicks of tongue as he went. He slid his hands between her legs, pushing them apart and she moaned, squeezing her eyes closed with the effort of staying still. When he moved his mouth to kiss the inside of her thighs, she almost bowed in half.

“P--please, I can’t--”

“Try as long as you can, sweetheart. I know you’re enjoying this just as much as I am,” he growled into her skin, and nipped her sharply.

She yelped, grabbing the pillow hard. His teeth in her skin sent a shock directly to her already swollen clit. If his hands hadn’t been keeping her legs parted, she might have wrapped them around his head.

He chuckled softly and continued his slow tease, nipping, kissing and nibbling up the inside of her things, coming ever closer to where she throbbed with need and then backing away, building her arousal and denying her in a slow and delicious torment. Her hips moved all on their own, desire driving her to push toward him, trying to urge him on. When he laid a kiss on her mound, and then stopped, she thought she might cry.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” 

She could feel his breath on her sex. He was so close it was maddening. And he expected her to speak? Her fingers were so tight on the pillows above her head that they ached. She took a ragged breath, and tried to find her voice.

“I want you inside me,” she mewled finally.

“I promise you we’ll get to that,” he said, and lowered his head.

She arched off the bed as his tongue lapped over her inner lips, pausing to swirl lazily over her clit. The cry he wrenched from her was high and strangled as she fought to stay still. Of course, that quickly proved impossible as he continued, his tongue lapping at her relentlessly. His big hands held her hips firmly, preventing her from squirming against him as she tried in vain to urge him on.

Olivia clawed at the pillows, fighting to keep her hands above her as he pleasured her with his lips and tongue. Her breath came in gasps and moans and distantly she realized he’d only moved to a new and different form of erotic torment. She felt the heat pooling low and deep, felt the crest of a wave of pleasure building, and knew she only needed a little more before it crashed. But the moment she tensed, his questing tongue moved on to tease another spot. 

He seemed determined to test her limits, to see just how many times he could drive her to the edge, then stop. He seemed to enjoy the sounds she made, the way she rolled her hips to try to urge him on. She tried to endure, tried to keep as still as she could, but every time he drove her to the edge, the precipice felt higher and more urgent. Finally, she could take no more.

She wailed as he moved away yet again, her voice choked. “Please! I can’t anymore! Please, I need you!”

She half expected him to continue teasing her. Instead, he moved over her, bending his head to kiss her. She tasted her own arousal on his lips, salty-sweet. He nuzzled at her neck as his cock nudged at her entrance.

“You did good, baby,” he murmured, bracing himself over her. “Now, hold on to me.”

She wrapped her arms tight around him, her fingers digging into his back. He rocked his hips gently, sliding into her inch by inch. She moaned at the sensation, almost too tight before her walls relaxed to accommodate him. When his hips pressed hers, she tightened her thighs around his waist.

He paused, their faces a breath apart. He nipped gently at her chin, her lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“You, Daddy” she said softly, and kissed him.

He started slowly, kissing and suckling her neck as he moved inside her. She held his shoulders, reveling in the fullness of him inside her. She’d imagined it a thousand times, but the reality was better than anything she could have thought of. He was unhurried, setting a languid pace at first that began to slowly rebuild her arousal. Once she started panting softly, his thrusts came harder and faster.

She dug her nails into his back as he started pushing her back toward the edge. His pace became relentless, the headboard clattering against the wall in time with his thrusts, his breathing hard and fast. Sweat beaded across his back as she held on for dear life.

Olivia wrapped her legs around him, tipping her hips up to allow him as deep as he could go inside her, his pelvis grinding against her clit. It was almost too intense after the teasing he’d put her through, and as she approached climax, she was almost afraid the wave would be too large.

Then, he quickened his pace and it was too late to stop.

She shrieked as her orgasm crashed over her, sending spasms through her whole body. She arched, her nails digging hard into his back as she held onto him, screaming, gasping for air, and screaming again. 

Somewhere in the middle of it, John buried himself in her with a roar, the hot spill inside her only making the shockwaves of pleasure that much more intense. She held him tightly as the waves slowly receded, and her body relaxed.

He kissed her as she went limp, stroking a hand down her side. She shuddered with little aftershocks as he pulled out of her, and she was unable to do anything but whimper softly. 

He sank to the pillows beside her, pulling her into his arms and stroking her hair as she came down. Slowly, her heart rate returned to normal, her breathing slowed. She nestled against him, spent and weary. 

John pressed a kiss to her forehead, looking down at her with a little smile. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Better than okay,” she said, reaching up to stroke a hand over his cheek.

He turned his head to kiss her palm, and shifted, tucking her head under his chin. “Think you can get some sleep now?”

She giggled softly. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

John chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. “Well, baby, I’ve got you. And I’ll be here when you wake up.”

For the first time in a long while, Olivia wasn’t afraid to fall asleep.


End file.
